Give Me Revolution
by francebeforepants
Summary: A Les Miserables College AU. Enjolras, a passionate Political studies student, has put together a group of people known as the Les Amis d'ABC. Follow their plans for revolution on the streets of modern Paris, but as they try to fight for freedom, they're faced with battles of their own. Rated M for future reference. E/R, M/C, JP/Courf
1. Chapter 1

Eponine stares down at her fingers when Cosette begins her daily drabble about how attractive Marius Pontmercy is. Cosette was smitten from the day they met, and from then on he has been her sole topic of conversation, despite the fact that she doesn't know his name. Eponine doesn't have the heart to tell her how she herself feels about the boy.  
_Marius_. Marius Pontmercy. He is truly beautiful, and in Eponine's eyes the only man she can ever see herself with. She has not broached the topic of Cosette with Marius yet, because he's only met her once and Eponine intends to keep that way. Although she loves Cosette, she can't cope with the idea of her and Marius together.  
She curls her hand around her warm latte, trying to drain out Cosette's high voice and the way she flicks her hair over her shoulder. That's another thing about Cosette; she's so effortlessly perfect that Eponine is brimming with jealously. Her hair trails along her back in a waterfall of silvery blonde curls, and although Eponine has never seen her wearing them, she's sure that Cosette can pull off sweatpants and a hoodie whilst still looking gorgeous.  
"Eponine, are you even listening?" Cosette is looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and humour as she takes a sip from her hot chocolate. Eponine nods, her hand firmly pressed into the papery material of the latte cup. Cosette simply shrugs and launches back into her speech, but she's interrupted two minutes later by her phone.  
"It's papa," she says, "I have to go and pick up some groceries on the way back." She rolls her eyes as she slips the phone back into her purse. "You can come with me if you like."  
"It's alright," Eponine tries to keep her voice light. She hasn't told Marius who she's meeting. In fact, he has no idea that Eponine knows Cosette, "I promised Gavroche I'd watch a movie with him."  
Cosette waves away her excuses with a slender hand, grabbing her purse and calling a hurried goodbye to Eponine as she dashes through the door of the small café they'd found tucked in the corner of a Parisian street.  
Eponine breathes a sigh of relief. She reaches for her phone and sends a quick text.

**Eponine: **Be there in 5.  
**Marius: **I'll be waiting.

Marius opens the door after one knock, and Eponine doesn't have to force the smile that erupts on her face when she sees him. He invites her in to his new apartment, and she starts when she sees the other boy slouching on the couch.  
"Eponine, this is my new roommate," Marius addresses the boy with a wave of a hand, "Courfeyrac."  
Courfeyrac grins widely at her, gesturing for her to join him on the couch, and Eponine plants herself beside him. He has a mop of dark fluffy curls and friendly brown eyes.  
"Courf was just saying that there's a group of people going for drinks at the Musain café tonight," Marius remarks as he sits himself by Eponine. "What do you think?" he says with eager eyes.  
"One of my friends is going," Courfeyrac says, "should be good."  
"And Enjolras," Marius practically squeals, throwing an arm around her shoulder.  
"Enjolras?" Eponine asks, nervously studying the long fingers that rest against her collar bone.  
"He's only just the most passionate man on campus," Courfeyrac says, keeping eyes on the TV, "Even Combeferre is excited, and nothing get's him riled up."  
"Is he a senior?"  
"No, he's a _freshman_," Marius says in awe.  
"And who's Combeferre?" Eponine continues, already confused.  
"The friend I mentioned earlier," Courfeyrac explains, "I met him in the library last week."  
"So, are you up for it?" Marius directs her.  
"Sure." Eponine will be glad to meet people who aren't obsessed with each other.

* * *

Eponine, Marius and Courfeyrac head out and make their way from the campus.  
"Where're we heading?" Eponine asks curiously. "What's wrong with the Starbucks on campus?"  
"Enjolras has already been kicked out of that one for starting a mini revolution," Marius states casually.  
"Why?"  
"The coffee beans weren't fair trade," Courfeyrac shrugs as if this was perfectly normal.  
It only takes five minutes of a pleasant stroll to arrive at their destination. The café lies at the end of a cobbled side-street, the exterior of the old building decorated with strings of small, bright lights and window boxes filled with fragrant flowers. Warm lights stream from the windows onto the ground and Eponine is eager to get inside and grab a coffee and a comfortable seat but the peaceful atmosphere is interrupted by powerful and passionate shouts coming from the doorway.  
"Looks like they've already started," says Marius, speeding up and dragging Eponine with him.  
Courfeyrac is first to enter, bouncing in happily to a chorus of cheers. Eponine can't help but grin as she sees him bowing to his loving audience. Her and Marius head in after him.  
A distinct crowd of people are gathered around a circular wooden table, on which a mismatch of coffee cups and a few bottles lie. In the midst of which, standing on a bar stool, is a young man who must be Enjolras. He pauses in his speech when he notices the three of them enter.  
Enjolras nods to Marius and Courfeyrac, his unruly golden curls bouncing into his eyes.  
"You're late," Enjolras says, not stepping off his stool.  
"And you're always early," Courfeyrac jests back. A hint of a smile creeps into Enjolras' expression, but slips away as Marius interjects himself with an introduction for Eponine.  
"Welcome to the Musain," Enjolras replies flippantly before clasping his hands together and turning back to the crowd.  
The initial crowd that Eponine saw turns out to be much smaller than she thought; barely a handful of people are sat around the table. The rest seem to be people drawn by Enjolras' speech, which appears to have ended. He motions for them to take seats, which they do so without hesitation.  
Enjolras is nothing short of beautiful. Everyone seems to stare at him with a polite awe, as though he were an angel or a sculpture. His face is carved in that way, and his eyes are full of a fervent fire. He pushes a stray curl from his face as he swaps his stool for a chair, and the crowd turn away, the air full of their mumbling discussions.  
Next to Enjolras lies another young man, sprawled across the table, his paint-splattered fingers curled around an almost empty bottle. He has a mass of dark, wild and scruffy curls under a red beanie. His clothes are a dishevelled mix of slacks and a brown jacket, also covered in paint.  
"This is Eponine," Enjolras announces to everyone, "she's a friend of Marius." Eponine smiles politely as Enjolras begins introductions. Even in this situation, his face is alive with a vehement energy. Eponine notices with a start that she's the only girl present. It doesn't bother her, since the only other girl she knows is Cosette, and she welcomes the warmth of Marius' shoulder pressed against hers in the tight circle.  
Combeferre gives her a small, shy smile, whereas Jean Prouvaire practically leaps up to kiss her hand. She notices Courfeyrac stiffen beside her when Jean Prouvaire comes closer, and both men make flitting eye contact. A slight colour rises on Jean Prouvaire's pale cheeks as he goes to sit back down.  
"…and this is Grantaire," Enjolras says finally, an almost impatient tone in his voice. The man with the beanie looks up at his name, and Jean Prouvaire carefully prises the bottle from his hands. Grantaire gives Eponine a haphazard wave of his colourful hand before his head sinks to the table again.  
"Are you Les Amis d'ABC?" a musical voice floats from behind Eponine. It's her time to stiffen as everyone turns to stare at Cosette, who's holding a leaflet in her hand.  
Marius stands up suddenly, knocking a chair to the floor with a loud crash. He blushes as he goes to pick it up, his face turning redder when he lifts his head and notices Cosette watching him.  
"I thought this was just a friendly get-together?" Eponine hisses, trying without success to hide her jealously.  
"With Enjolras it's never a friendly get-together," Courfeyrac laughs.  
"Hi, Eponine!" Cosette drags a chair from a nearby table, and throws herself down next to Marius, much to his delight. Eponine cringes, wondering whether or not Marius will detest her for keeping Cosette from him. But he doesn't seem to notice, he's so transfixed that Eponine feels the pressure of his shoulder lift from hers as he leans slightly towards Cosette. Cosette doesn't blush, but her eyes are wide as they turn to Marius', and a small smile lifts the corners of her perfect lips.  
"My name is Marius Pontmercy," he manages to stutter.  
"And mine's Cosette," she replies before Eponine strikes up a conversation with Courfeyrac to keep herself busy.  
"Is everyone here?" asks Jean Prouvaire. Eponine notices that he keeps glancing towards Courfeyrac, who fiddles with the drawstring of his grey hoodie.  
"Bahorel and Feuilly are still moving in," Combeferre says in a quiet voice.  
"Joly and Bossuet couldn't make it either," Enjolras states, "I wasn't expecting this much seeing as classes start in two days. We can have another meeting next week." He gets out a pristine notebook from his coat, which he begins to scrawl on in neat handwriting. "How's Wednesday?"  
Everyone nods in agreement as Enjolras tucks the notebook away and rests an elbow on the table. He decides that everyone needs more drinks, so Courfeyrac and Eponine offer to order. The menu is stringed with the same twinkling lights outside, and the glass counter is laden with cakes.  
Eponine asks for another latte, and Courfeyrac orders two milkshakes, one each for Cosette and Marius (who insisted on getting the same beverage), tea for Combeferre ("He seems like an _Earl Grey _kind of guy."), iced tea for Jean Prouvaire ("_With extra lemon!_"), still water for Grantaire (at _both_ Jean and Enjolras' request, who orders an espresso) and a hot chocolate for himself.  
"Heavy on the marshmallows, if you please," Courfeyrac tells the Latina waitress.  
"Sure thing, sweetheart," she replies with a wink, sneaking a chocolate chip cookie onto his saucer.  
Courfeyrac smiles and returns with Eponine and Jean Prouvaire, who had eagerly offered to assist with the carrying of the drinks, to the table.  
Cosette is attempting a heated discussion with Marius, who laughs in all the wrong places and agreeing when there's no need. The colour still hasn't left his cheeks, and he almost spills the milkshake on Cosette as he offers it to her. Jean Prouvaire places himself delicately on the arm of Grantaire's chair, tucking his legs underneath himself in a way that should be impossible, and begins playing with a few strands of Grantaire's hair which have escaped his beanie. Eponine notices Courfeyrac fail to find himself a comfortable position on his own chair, his eyes directed anywhere except at Jean. Eponine decides to sit herself down on Jean Prouvaire's vacant seat, well aware of her hot cheeks.  
Enjolras pauses in his own discussion with Combeferre only long enough to down his espresso whilst the other sips idly at his own cup. Grantaire has yet to touch his water and has not so much as lifted his head whilst Jean Prouvaire has acquired a colourful straw from somewhere and plays with it between his teeth. Courfeyrac leans toward Jean Prouvaire, about to offer his cookie as a gift, but stuffs it into Eponine's hands instead, blushing furiously.  
Once they've finished their drinks, they head out into the warm Parisian air. As the rest of the group filter out into the street, Jean Prouvaire swings himself around a tree trunk, humming lightly. Enjolras is the last to leave, Grantaire's water bottle in his hand. Grantaire himself is ambling along, his blue eyes unfocused and flickering lazily. Courfeyrac hangs behind as he watches Jean Prouvaire dance forward spryly and takes Grantaire's hand, tugging at it lightly. The drunkard doesn't respond. Enjolras sighs in annoyance and in one swift movement, unscrews the bottle cap and douses Grantaire in cold water. He gasps and Jean Prouvaire takes advantage of Grantaire's bemusement and links his arm through his, giggling merrily and raising his other arm in farewell.  
Enjolras pinches the bridge of his nose, watching Grantaire's retreating back as he and Jean Prouvaire make their way down the cobbled alleyway. Eponine's unsure who to join, not wanting to seem like she's pushing in. A moment later, Combeferre joins Enjolras and they both walk in the same direction as Grantaire and Jean Prouvaire.  
Cosette bids farewell to Marius, who instantly starts talking animatedly to Courfeyrac as they too make for their apartment. It's a while before Cosette turns around to face Eponine. For a change, she doesn't mention Marius, or in fact anyone. Eponine falls into step with her, but she feels as though she's walking home alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Courfeyrac wakes up the next morning, the smell of Marius' cooking wafting through his open door. If this is what being in love does to Marius, he thinks, he's more than okay with it, although he doesn't think true love is having the same effect on him. Despite the tantalising scent of bacon inviting him to the kitchen, all he wants is to stay curled under his duvet for the rest of his life, but class starts in two days, and he has to face the world. After all, how will he learn more about Jean Prouvaire if he's locked away?  
Pushing himself up from his bed, he ambles towards the door, pausing by his floor length mirror just long enough to ponder on whether it's appropriate for Marius to see him in his boxers this early in their 'relationship'. After deciding that Marius can take it, he walks through to their shared kitchen. Marius is whistling cheesily, already dressed in a grey sweater and jeans, his hair still rumpled from sleep.  
Courfeyrac goes to bid him a good morning but is interrupted by a loud ding emanating from Marius' pocket. He answers it immediately, a grin already plastered on his face.  
"Cosette?" Courfeyrac asks, already knowing the answer.  
They eat breakfast in a silence broken only by Marius' phone.  
"Cosette is asking if we want to get together later," Marius tries to sound nonchalant, but Courfeyrac can see him almost shaking with excitement.  
"As in you and her, or both of us?" Courfeyrac asks, sliding a piece of bacon across his place.  
"She didn't say," a hint of nerves creeps into his voice, "Couldn't you come with me?" Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow, "please?"  
"Sure. Let me go change," Courfeyrac leaves the table, tosses the rest of his breakfast in the garbage and crosses to his room.  
"Nice boxers, by the way," Marius jokes as he goes to wash up.  
Courfeyrac knows they're going to be fast friends.

* * *

By the time they arrive at Cosette's apartment, the news seems to have gotten around. Courfeyrac only texted Combeferre to keep him company or if Marius wanted time alone with Cosette. Now, Grantaire is lying on the couch, his beanie pulled over his eyes. To Courfeyrac's horror, Jean Prouvaire is patting Grantaire's head as though he's an obedient puppy. Four others, who Courfeyrac presumes are those missing from last night at the Musain, are sitting in assorted chairs, laughing merrily.  
Enjolras is discussing something with Combeferre, scribbling rapidly in his notebook. He nods in acknowledgement as Courfeyrac and Marius walk in. Cosette makes her way towards Marius, and Courfeyrac steps aside, and with one last look at Jean Prouvaire, heads towards Enjolras.  
Combeferre and Enjolras pause in their conversation as Courfeyrac approaches. Enjolras closes the notebook with a snap, hiding it in the pocket of his jacket. Courfeyrac doesn't want to seem blunt, but he can't hold it in any longer.  
"Are Grantaire and Jean Prouvaire dating?" he asks before he can stop himself. Combeferre's eyes widen considerably, and he lets out a curt laugh.  
"No," Enjolras looks towards Grantaire indignantly. He doesn't elaborate.  
"They share an apartment," Combeferre fills in, eyeing Enjolras sceptically. "Enjolras met Jehan in the library, and he just dragged Grantaire along – Jehan, Jean, they're the same," he adds, noticing the confused expression on Courfeyrac's face.  
Relief floods through Courfeyrac, and with a new wave of confidence, he plants himself between Jean Prouvaire and Grantaire. Jehan starts suddenly, eyes wide, and Grantaire is just as surprised, but relaxes when Courfeyrac grins at him happily as he tries to ignore the fact that Jehan's slender knee, covered in pastel pink denim, is touching his thigh. Courfeyrac doesn't think that he's ever met anyone like Jean Prouvaire before, and he _knows_ that the feeling flooding through him is definitely new. Jean, or Jehan, is tall and yet so _tiny_. Courfeyrac imagines he could pick him up with a mere thought, simply a feather in his arms, but he doesn't want his mind to wander and result in embarrassingly chaotic consequences. Despite how slender he is, he's tall, almost gangly, but unlike Marius he carries it off with a magical gracefulness, enveloping himself on every chair neatly, and gliding peacefully to every destination. His hair hangs loose today, wavy and perfect, sitting across his shoulders contentedly, one minute plait hidden amongst his angelic locks. He looks to his knees now, fingers playing restlessly with each other. Courfeyrac knows he will never deserve him. And yet, he has to try.  
"We're taking requests for tonight," Cosette chimes happily, grabbing a pen and paper from her desk.  
"Tonight?" Courfeyrac asks Jehan as the others shout out various different drinks. Grantaire has jumped up at the thought, and strides towards Cosette, already reeling off his favourites.  
"The party?" Jehan playfully punches Courfeyrac's shoulder, sending nervous shivers through his body. "You know, last night of freedom and all that."  
"I'm game," Courfeyrac keeps his voices steady.

* * *

Before long, Cosette, with the eager help of Grantaire, is unloading several bottles onto the kitchen table. The room is already stifling with the mingling body heat, and the slender blond who Courfeyrac has come to know as Joly goes to open the window.  
"Does everyone like Swedish House Mafia?" asks Eponine, turning on the stereo.  
"Come on," Jehan has hold of Courfeyrac's sweating hand before he knows what's hit him, and he's pulled to the middle of the room. Enjolras seems prepared for Jehan's dancing, and clears a space on the floor.  
Grantaire has already downed three shots, offering one to Eponine, who in turn hands one to Cosette.  
After a while, and far too many drinks, Enjolras is dancing on the sofa, his feet sinking into the soft cushions, bobbing to himself with a bottle in his hand. Joly and Bossuet are making out under the kitchen table, arms wrapped around each other, whilst Combeferre, Fueilly and Bahorel have formed a conga line and are marching across the floor.  
Cosette jumps on the coffee table, yelling "Who's ready to fucking party?" as she tears off her shirt. Marius, already making his way towards her, stumbles over a chair in surprise.  
"Someone's had a bit too much," Enjolras says, swaying next to Eponine.  
"I have not had _anything_ to drink," Marius mutters from the floor.  
Grantaire shouts encouragement to Cosette as she throws her shirt into the crowd, which lands on Marius. He scrambles up, pulling Cosette from the table by her wrist.  
"Put this back on," he thrusts the shirt towards her, but Cosette whines and pulls away, joining the conga line. Marius moves to the back of the room, now that Joly has disentangled himself from Bossuet.  
In response to Cosette's outburst, Jehan, with a shout of "let's get naked!" rips his shirt off. Courfeyrac stares at his bare chest, but Jehan has already moved away, head banging with Enjolras. Grantaire looks as though he's passed out on the floor, but he grumbles when Bossuet steps on him.  
Courfeyrac tears himself away begrudgingly, and sees no choice but to join the conga line that's snaking its way along the room. Everyone gets bored after a while, and they all head for more drinks. Courfeyrac knows that he shouldn't drink much when he has a morning class tomorrow, but he doesn't want to join Marius and Joly in the 'sober corner', so he pours himself more of the sour purple drink that he's taken a fancy to. Bossuet hands Grantaire another bottle from where he's still lying on the floor, and he takes it with a grin.  
Why is this so hard? Courfeyrac has liked people before, and slept with a good deal of them. He never had any trouble picking anyone up, not because he was a charmer, but because he was so loveable. He cringed as Feuilly slammed his arm around Jehan's thin shoulders, making his long legs quake beneath him, but turned away.  
He didn't want Jehan in that way…or he did, but that wasn't all he wanted. He wanted love, and it wasn't going to come overnight.  
He ends up grooving with Bossuet in the middle of the dance floor, a whisky glass in his hand containing an odd concoction that Grantaire and Cosette have spent the past ten minutes mixing and experimenting with. Bossuet is quite the dancer and is waving his arms wildly whilst twisting around Courfeyrac, who's vision is already blurring slightly at the edges.  
"So are you and Joly a thing?" Courfeyrac shouts as the music gets louder. The fluffy haired student glances over to the stereo and spots Combeferre cranking up the volume. Unsurprisingly he's a quiet drunk, but his actions speak louder than words. He's discarded his own shirt and is wearing Jehan's sweater which is tight around his broad shoulders and decorated with the face of a large and adorable tabby kitten.  
Bossuetgrabs Courfeyrac's hands and twists him around before answering, nodding wildly. He's not as drunk as most of the others, probably to keep his supposed boyfriend company, but he's still very hyperactive.  
"Yeah! We've been together since we were tiny, in a way."  
Courfeyrac glances over at the slender young man who is drinking what looks like coke by the table as he watches the group of 'cooks' worriedly as if they're witches.  
"Why doesn't he drink? Is he religious?"  
Bossuet shakes his head, chuckling. "Nah, he's a doctor. You know, makes people better? He doesn't like to be sick. And he's not a great drinker. Plus, he knows what happens to people's livers."  
"He looks kinda left out…" Courfeyrac says, and Bossuet nods, frowning unhappily.  
Suddenly, his eyes light up and he ditches Courfeyrac and runs over to the stereo, pushing Combeferre aside haphazardly.  
"Joly!" Bossuet yells, waving his lover over. The sober young man glances up and lumbers over slowly, glad to get away from Cosette who is now pouring apple juice into the mixture. The medicine student slips his hand around Bossuet's arm and squeezes it.  
"What is it? Oh, look at you, Boss, you're ears are getting all red. You're sure to develop some sort of skin condition…" He pulls Bossuet's bottle towards him and peers at it studiously. "It probably contains a hoard of chemicals unworthy of your body, Bossuet. Why do-"  
Suddenly, he's cut off by Bossuet pumping his fist in the air and screaming, "KARAOKE!"  
To everyone's surprise, Enjolras starts bouncing on his tiptoes, joining Bossuet in his fist-pumping and starting to cheer. "Woo woo!"  
Eponine giggles hysterically from the floor where she's sat on Grantaire's knee, who raises his head sleepily. "Huh?"  
Joly shakes his head fondly and kisses Bossuet on the cheeks. "You always have the best ideas…"  
"Me and Eponine first!" Cosette squeals, running over to jerk her roommate to her feet, and turning to the stereo, ready to take centre stage. Bossuet steps forward, every bit the diva, and pokes Cosette in her chest, his blunt finger leaving a bleak red mark on her bare skin.  
"Not so fast, _Colette._ It was my idea, so me and Joly are going first," he states demandingly, pulling Joly beside him by the hand.  
Cosette stares at him before following in his example and tugging Eponine to back her up. "But it's our apartment," she says smugly, crossing her arms.  
The tipsy Eponine peeks worriedly between them and pleads with the gods that a quarrel won't break out. She's already surprised by Cosette's forwardness, as her roommate stands beside her only in jeans and a spotty bra, and she has no idea what Bossuet is really like, and Joly's expression is not cheering her up. In desperation she kicks Grantaire in the shoulder and he shoots up to a sitting position.  
"ME FIRST," he says hoarsely and Jehan hurries over to pull him up, sobering suddenly as his new friend stumbles forward to wrestle the microphone from Bossuet's hand.  
Cosette looks stern, but laughs as Grantaire begins to press hopelessly on the stereo buttons before turning his puppy dog eyes on her. She laughs and moves forward to choose a track, waving him away fondly. Eponine smiles at Joly who tugs Bossuet over to sit on the sofa where Marius has taken his place solemnly. Jehan claps his hands together excitedly and literally falls to the floor, assembling himself in a cross-legged position and gazing at the boy on stage. Enjolras joins him, his head swinging idly from side to side as he gazes at the wine bottle he's acquired from Eponine and Cosette's fridge. Courfeyrac sits on the golden-haired young man's other side and peers at him as Enjolras downs a good deal of the red wine. Of course he would have gotten his hands on the most sophisticated drink available, despite it probably being only the cheapest bottle from the local store.  
"Any requests?" Cosette asks eagerly as Grantaire steps up onto the coffee table, rubbing his hands together and jogging his knees.  
Courfeyrac starts to wonder whether they had any of The Beatles on record, or even Elton John, when Enjolras snaps his head up and declares, "Madonna!"  
Everyone except Jehan, who claps his hands happily, stares at him surprised, especially Grantaire who brushes his hair from his eyes especially to glance at the young man on the floor.  
Cosette turns back to the stereo, shoulders shaking with laughter. "I have her greatest hits CD!"  
Eponine chimes in, "Ooh, Grantaire, Grantaire! Do 'We only got four minutes to save the woooorld.'" She bops around on the sofa, hair flying wildly around her slender face. Courfeyrac shakes his head, waiting for Grantaire to refuse but he simply nods to Cosette and leans down towards the boys sat on the floor. Enjolras starts as Grantaire's hand appears in front of him, gesturing him to take it.  
"What?"  
"You wanted Madonna, and it's a duet."  
A long pause follows and Courfeyrac nearly screams with pleasure as Enjolras nods determinedly and slips his hands into Grantaire's who pulls him to his feet.  
"One condition…"  
Grantaire glances at him as the opening bars emanate from the speakers, filling the room.  
"I'm not touching JT with a bargepole."  
"Fine. Madonna's all yours."

* * *

An hour later and Courfeyrac lies tiredly across the sofa with Feuilly and Bossuet. Even through his tipsiness, he knows that this whole party was a bad idea, for several reasons. One, he has class tomorrow, his first ever class, and the professor won't be happy when he staggers in to the lecture theatre, pasty white and squeamish. Secondly, the sight of Jehan's precious torso spinning around the coffee table with Cosette will never leave him, and it will mean a harder struggle to get out of bed in the morning. And third, this wasn't the way he wanted to get to know Jehan, not carrying him over to Eponine's bedroom in the middle of the afternoon when he passed out of tiredness and excitement whilst everyone else was too drunk to function, Jehan's soft and slender hands clutching at his neck as the sweat from Courfeyrac's hands rubbed off onto his back.  
He knew it was probably time to get back, and to drag Marius with him. His loved-up roommate had finally succumbed to his feelings and had been seated at the kitchen table sipping at the vodka for a good part of the party. Cosette and Eponine were currently crooning along to a love ballad after retiring from their previous repertoire of girl-power songs, and Enjolras was sleeping on the floor by the couch, just beneath Courfeyrac. Grantaire had disappeared a good few minutes previously.  
The boy suddenly appears in the doorway, his jacket flung about his shoulders and Jehan in his arms and a half full glass of water in one hand. He notices Courfeyrac staring at him and gestures towards the door.  
"I'm heading out. Jehan's knackered and I need a shower."  
"How are you even alive?" Feuilly grumbles from his place at the other end of the sofa, feet draped across Courfeyrac's shoulders and Bossuet's stomach. "You drank way more than the rest of us put together."  
"Practice," he grumbles, waving to both girls who are lost in their own world. "Here. Drink."  
He handed the glass to Feuilly who props himself up on his elbow and takes a long drag whilst Bossuet begins to snore.  
"See you guys. It was…interesting."  
Courfeyrac barks with laughter, his shaking body making Feuilly choke on his drink as he too begins to chuckle. Grantaire smiles and turns towards the door, steadying Jehan in his grip before freezing. He turns back to the boys on the sofa.  
"Tell me one thing-"  
"Yes, you sang Madonna with Enjolras. Two songs."  
"Which were?"  
"Four minutes…"  
"…and Material Girl," Feuilly adds casually, passing the last of the water to Courf who takes it happily.  
Grantaire closes his eyes before waving at them and turning back to the door. After he disappears, Courfeyrac leans back, willing the nauseous feeling to pass over quickly, without making a physical appearance. He listens intently to the rhythm of Enjolras' heavy breathing which falls in neatly with Bossuet's snores.  
He guesses it has been a good night after all. He's made a lot more friends, and Courfeyrac loves people, loves to touch them and be with them. He loves how comfortable these strangers have become with each other. As if a reminder, Feuilly's toes tickle his cheek as he turns over awkwardly. A rumbling from underneath's Courfeyrac's hip startles him suddenly before he realises it's someone's cell phone.  
It isn't his, he realises as he wrestles it from between his body and the couch. Before he can decipher the identity of the author, he realises that it's Grantaire's name flashing on-screen and he quickly presses the green button and presses the phone to his ear.  
"Grantaire? You just left."  
"Wait, Courf- wait, no. You've gotta move. Pro-"  
His words are drowned out by heavy thumps on the door, and a man's concerned voice speaking from the outside. Courfeyrac pushes himself up and hears Grantaire murmur something which sounds suspiciously like, "Oh shit," on the end of the line. Cosette jumps to her feet but Eponine beats her to the door, rushing past an alarmed Marius and swinging the door open. She is greeted with the handsome face of a middle-aged man who glances confusedly at her before his gaze moves across the messy room to the half-naked Cosette in the corner who has suddenly gone pale.  
"Papa," she squeaks.


	3. Chapter 3

Courfeyrac often sleeps with his limbs sprawled, the covers tangled and half on the floor, and that's how he lies now. He probably remembers far more about last night than anyone else, except perhaps Cosette, who sobered up as soon as her father arrived and sent everyone home. None the less, the night was still hilariously fun.  
But, as Courfeyrac expected, the first image that comes to mind is Jehan, dancing half naked. Courf buries his face in the pillow, letting out a long sigh.  
There's no smell of bacon this morning, but Courf can hear Marius walking about the apartment, and he seems to be talking to someone on the phone. He decides to get out of bed, since lying here forever is not an option. He believes that Marius will have accepted the fact that Courf hates getting dressed in the morning, unless the situation arises.  
The situation does arise, but sooner than Courf thinks. And Marius isn't talking on the phone.  
"Jehan!" Courfeyrac is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his underwear. Jehan is sitting at their table, his wavy hair plaited with a lilac ribbon. Today his jeans are floral, and he wears a loose fitted white shirt that's too see-through for Courfeyrac to handle. He looks up, and his eyes widen at the sight of Courf, who can already feel his face burning.  
"I brought you a hangover cure," Jehan says, walking over to Courfeyrac. The closer he gets, the hotter Courfeyrac feels himself become. He hopes that the blood coursing through his body doesn't rush to anywhere but his face.  
He takes the glass from Jehan, the green-ish liquid slopping around. It looks a lot like cough syrup, and Courf isn't sure if he could trust it, but he trusts Jehan. Jehan smiles as he watches Courfeyrac convulse at the foul taste of the liquid as it burns down his throat, handing the glass back to Jehan.  
Marius watches them both, still pale faced from last night. Courfeyrac isn't sure when Marius will recover from his shock of seeing Cosette without her shirt on.  
_Just the same as you with Jehan_, Courf reminds himself.  
His phone buzzes on the table, and he's torn out of his reverie.

**Combeferre: **How you holding up?  
**Courfeyrac: **Jehan brought over his 'cure'. I'm not too sure yet.

Marius has his head on the table, his voice muffled against the sleeve of his striped jumper. "How am I supposed to face Prof. Valjean today?" he whines to Courfeyrac, who is heading to get dressed.  
"He probably never got a good glimpse of you, you ran out so fast."  
Marius isn't content with any amount of Courfeyrac's consoling, so he leaves him to his moping.  
Courf looks into the mirror, his hand trailing along the spot where Jehan's knee had touched his last night.

* * *

Jehan leans against the door of Courfeyrac's apartment. He's already been around everyone else's apartments with his cure-in-a-bottle, because he wanted to do Courfeyrac's last and he's so glad that he did. He wasn't prepared to see Courf like that, despite having seen a ton of guys, and girls, in the same situation. But Courfeyrac was different.  
He spends his morning English Literature class scribbling poems on the cover of his notebook. Although he's not concentrating on what he's writing, the subject of each is always Courfeyrac, despite his name never being etched into the paper. The lecturer is speaking but has developed his speech on Shakespeare into a rant about the on-stage spectacle of Jacobean theatre. Jehan loves Shakespeare, but his new muse is too inspiring for him to focus on the professor's lyrical ramblings and the lecture is over before he knows it. Jehan tucks his notebook away and hurries out of the building, the mild air playing with the strands of hair which have freed themselves from his plait. Students file past him, some discussing the lecture, sharing common interests, making friends, but Jehan already has friends, a chaotic group whom he's already grown to love.  
He doesn't want to head back to his apartment. Grantaire will be leaving for his afternoon art class soon, and Jehan is feeling lighter than air at the moment and doesn't want to be alone. His hangover, which was only mild to begin with, has drifted away with the morning breeze and he looks up at the sun happily, squinting. It's nearly midday, and Jehan is empty after his early breakfast which followed a good dose of his cure. Jehan has always been a great drunk, happy and sometimes radical, but always able to sober enough in time to care for his peers. He could count on one hand the times he'd been ill after drinking, and he was good to have around after a party, although somehow Grantaire had told him he'd found Jehan fast asleep on Eponine's bed the day before, neither of them with any idea of how he'd gotten there. It was true, he was exhausted, but only _emotionally_. The excitement of college life was giving him a rush and class had only just begun. He dawdles over to the library, hoping to catch a glimpse of Combeferre or Cosette but he decides that most of his friends will either have reluctantly dragged themselves to their respective lectures or will be curled up on couches and in beds with curtains closed and water by their sides.  
He sighs, and suddenly gains an injection of confidence. He slips his phone from his pocket, an old Nokia decorated with sharpie doodles and fake crystals, and opens his messaging application. He might be considered the baby of the gang, the most timid and pure (or not after his wild antics at the party) but Jehan has got a wily side which is yet to be shown to his new companions. He dots his fingers across the keypad, littering the screen with orderly letters and closes his eyes as he pushes 'send'.

* * *

Courfeyrac starts as his thigh rumbles beneath him. He's unwillingly travelling towards the Sociology building, which is annoyingly placed on the other side of campus to Courfeyrac and Marius' apartment. He blinks bemusedly before pulling his phone from his pocket, a scuffed blackberry which has a mismatched battery cover, a dazzling red against the dull black of the original casing, and glances at the screen. An unknown number flashes up at him as he opens up the message, which reads,

**Unknown: **Hey! Care to join me for lunch? x

Courfeyrac frowns and taps out a quick reply as he continues to his second class of the day. He's already been to a seminar in the psychology building which one of his professor's thought would be worthy for the sociology students to attend.

**Courfeyrac: **Who is this?****

Jehan bites his lip as he receives the curt reply, (perhaps he wasn't as clever and sly as he'd thought), but sends his own answer hurriedly.

**Unknown: **It's Jehan? Sorry, Grantaire gave me your number yesterday.

Courfeyrac stumbles as he reads the reply, and swings back onto his heels as he pounds a polite answer back into his phone, the keypad squeaking in protest.

**Courfeyrac: **God, sorry! Yeah, lunch sounds great! Starbucks or the place we went to over the weekend?****

Courfeyrac uses all of his literary strength, which is meek, to form a text which both looks and sounds correct. He knows that Jehan studies English Literature, and he wasn't surprised when Marius told him that Cosette had told _him _that he was a natural born poet. Ironically, though, there were no words, lyrical or otherwise, which were capable of doing justice to Jean Prouvaire, even his name sounded unreal on Courfeyrac's tongue.  
By the time Jehan sends his next reply, Courfeyrac has already forgotten about his lecture and is jogging back towards the centre of campus, his shoulder bag banging against his leg.

**Jehan: **Enjolraswould most likely murder us if we dared step foot in Starbucks again.**  
Courfeyrac: **The Musain it is, then! See you in ten.**  
Jehan: **Let's walk there together.

Courfeyrac nearly chokes on thin air as he stuffs his phone into his bag and makes his way towards the English Literature Department. He sees the blond headed angel immediately, sat on top of one of the benches on the grassy area near the entrance. Jehan was trailing the fingers of his right hand over his left, tracing the outline delicately. Courfeyrac pauses, and breathes.  
_'Yes, breathe, good,'_ he tells himself, clenching and unclenching his fists before he walks across the last few yards separating them.  
Jehan grins beautifully as he notices Courfeyrac arrive.  
"Ready to go?"  
"Uh, yeah!" the dark-haired student replies, adjusting his bag on his shoulder anxiously as Jehan jumps onto his toes smoothly.  
He falls into step beside the slender figure, concentrating on each step, before he realises that he should instigate some form of conversation, or risk seeming like a boring, unintelligent fucktard.  
"Thanks! ...by the way," he begins, internally cursing himself, before using his right hand to pinch his bare left forearm. "Thanks for that potion you brought us this morning. I feel perfectly fine...just a little tired."  
"Of course, you're very welcome," Jehan trills happily, like a bird on summer's morning. "Would you believe, my grandmother taught it to me."  
"Really?" Courfeyrac turns towards him, eyebrows raised.  
"No," Jehan replies, laughing lightly.  
Courfeyrac blinks suddenly before a laugh rumbles deep in his own throat and it bursts from his mouth in a joyful sound which makes Jehan's stomach flip. The slender boy's fingers twitch automatically and he restrains himself from grabbing Courfeyrac's fingers in his.  
"Well, it was good, whatever it was. Tell Grandma Prouvaire I said thanks," he quipped, grinning, a little more confident now.  
"I'll be sure to let her know." Jehan grins back, and Courfeyrac realises that he shouldn't be agitated. This is the young man that he _loves._ Jehan might not feel the same, but Courfeyrac will enjoy whatever moments he shares with this angel. _His own personal angel,_ who he's lucky to be able to see day in and day out. He can't freak out every time they make eye contact, or every time their legs touch. For now, they'll be friends, and Courfeyrac will hold on to whatever he can, until he slides from his grasp.  
They chat about their degrees for awhile, Courfeyrac's side of the discussion quite brief, compared to Jehan's obvious passion in literature. He lists names of poets and works which he loves, and Courfeyrac tries to drink it all in, but they all blur into one joyful noise which the black-haired boy is content to listen to as they make their way to the café. For a moment Jehan pulls a small notebook from his jacket pocket, the pages are clean but the light cover is covered in scribbles, but suddenly Jehan blushes and stuffs it out of sight once more.  
"Sorry," he mutters, growing suddenly quiet as he turns his gaze to the floor.  
Courfeyrac smiles understandingly.  
"No problem. I've known a lot of people who don't wanna share their work," he says reassuringly, "But for the record, I bet you're great."  
Jehan nods and shoots him a small smile, _'If only that were the problem.'_  
At the Musain, the stunning Latina waitress greets them by the door as she busily arranges a new display of flowers above the door in hanging baskets. Jehan chirps in admiration and she turns towards them, beaming. Courfeyrac can't tell whether she's older than them, as her smile is young and buoyant, her skin clear and supple, whilst she seems to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders easily, her eyes knowing and experienced.  
"Nice to see you again, boys! Coming in for lunch?"  
Jehan nods eagerly as he follows her inside. "Hello, Musichetta!"  
"Call me, 'Chetta, little dove," she sings, gliding towards the counter.  
They seem to be the only customers, save for the elderly couple in the corner, lunching by the window in the sunlight streaming into the cafe, and Courfeyrac smiles at them as they peer at the new arrivals.  
"How were your first classes, sweetheart?"  
She directs this question to Courfeyrac and he nods sheepishly as he hops onto a bar stool next to Jehan. "Good. It'll take awhile to get used to college, I think."  
"You'll soon be in your element, sweetheart. Everyone is a little lost at the start. Now what can I get you?"  
Jehan orders a fruit salad, and Courfeyrac asks for a ham and cheese sandwich.  
"So, did you know anyone before coming here?" Courfeyrac asks as they tuck into the corner they'd occupied over the weekend.  
"No. I was a little worried about who I'd be rooming with. I get a little...creative, sometimes," Jehan explains, smiling to himself.  
"Creative?"  
"Sometimes I just...write. Everywhere."  
Courfeyrac grins, wanting to know more. He loves the quirks that seem to be erupting around all of his new friends, not simply Jehan. He wonders if he has any, and just hasn't noticed.  
"Everywhere."  
"Everywhere. Skin, walls, floorboards, wax..."  
"_Wax_?" Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows, a grin threatening.  
"My mother _loves_ candles. You'd be surprised; it's quite a pleasing surface. There's not much a Sharpie can't handle."  
Courfeyrac suddenly laughs, and he can't stop. College life might be different, and might be daunting, and hundreds of lectures might be stretching out before him, but with Jehan, Marius, Comebeferre and the rest, he knows it's going to be interesting.


End file.
